Hell Hath No Fury
by puppyblue
Summary: Summer after fifth year, Harry doesn't think he will survive his uncle's rage, until Sirius gives him one last gift. Hurt, betrayed, and forced to rely on his worst enemy, Harry must make the decision about where he truly belongs in the wizarding world.
1. Hidden

Chapter 1

Warm breath fogged the chilled window of the silent compartment as the occupant rested his head against the cool glass, green eyes watching the landscape rolling by. Despite his tranquil appearance, Harry Potter was far from calm. Thoughts chased each other around his head endlessly, as they had been since the fiasco in the Department of Mysteries. Usually, his thoughts centered on the prophecy. He was still slightly in shock, and also a little bit angry. Why had Dumbledore waited until now to tell him? Why had it taken the death of the one person he truly considered family for Dumbledore to open up?

And there it was again, the main focus of his thoughts today; Sirius Black. He twitched slightly as he remembered his godfather falling through the dark veil. The image seemed burned into his eyelids, haunting him at the most inopportune moments. His depression had dulled a bit as time passed, though his burning hatred for Bellatrix Lestrange… Harry scowled slightly at the passing fields at the thought of her and turned away to study the walls. It almost scared him, the depth of his hatred for the woman, but he knew when they met again, he would make her _suffer_.

He shook himself out of the dark path his thoughts were following. Usually he had a better grip on himself than that, but today he was having trouble, and he knew why. Sirius' will had been discovered, and he was the recipient of everything Sirius owned, unfortunately including Grimmauld Place. While he was perfectly willing to let the order continue using it for meetings, Dumbledore had insisted that he visit before returning to his relatives, so they could watch the wards' reactions to him. _"Just a precaution, my boy. We wouldn't want to find out the hard way, now would we?" _had been Dumbledore's infuriatingly cheerful response to all of Harry's protests. He wasn't sure which he hated more; Grimmauld Place or the Dursley's. Actually, no, the Dursleys were still the clear winners, but returning to his godfather's hated childhood home held no appeal for him either.

Harry jerked upright as the compartment door crashed open and one Ronald Weasley tripped over the threshold and sent candy flying everywhere due to the uneven movement of the train.

"Aww no!" Ron moaned, as he attempted to catch a few chocolate frogs that had escaped their plastic prisons. "I spent the rest of my money on those!"

"Well, maybe if you bought a reasonable amount, instead of every single frog you can hold, you wouldn't have this problem," sniffed Hermione's voice from outside the compartment. Carefully, she minced around Ron, trying not to step on the still active frogs or the ginger teen's searching fingers. She huffed as she collapsed on the seat across from Harry. "I'm sorry we took so long to get here Harry, but _someone_," she threw an exasperated look at Ron, "took his sweet time at the trolley."

"Mrphugulmph," came Ron's expected protest around the twitching chocolate limb sticking out of his mouth. He swallowed and then continued thickly, "It's not my fault if they have so many choices. You want a chocolate frog, Harry?"

"No thanks," Harry muttered, turning back to the window. "I'm not really in the mood for candy." Hermione and Ron exchanged a short glance, which they seemed to do often when they thought he wouldn't notice.

"I know it's hard Harry, but you should really try and eat something," Hermione suggested cautiously, "You haven't been eating properly for days, and… well… you know what your relatives are like." Harry snorted at this. Really, his relatives put so much pride in being normal, yet their mistreatment of him was so obvious that even usually oblivious teenagers picked up on it. At least after Sirius showed up he managed to make it through the summers intact. He swallowed nervously at this, but forcibly calmed himself down. They had no way of knowing Sirius had died, and as long as he didn't let anything slip…

Shivering almost imperceptibly, Harry turned back to find his two friends regarding him almost fearfully, as if the reminder of his relatives was enough for him to snap and curse them into oblivion. "I remember very well what they're like, Hermione," he snapped impatiently. They had been acting like this since the ministry, and he was getting seriously tired of it. As if tip-toeing around him was going to make everything all better again! "I have food in my trunk for later if I need it, and you know Ron's mum will send some as well. She's always going on about how thin I am," he added, trying to lighten the worried look on her face.

Hermione sighed, but gave up, since she had yet to convince him to eat much even back at Hogwarts. "I just want you to take care of yourself, Harry. Make sure you owl us if something happens or you need help!" she pressed anxiously. Harry nodded impassively as he turned back to the window, though he bristled inside at her mothering. As if she would do anything if he ever told her the full extent of the Dursley's crimes. As if Dumbledore would _let_ her do anything, even if she tried. After all, he could hardly make it clearer for the old man exactly how he was treated there, and where was he now? Going straight back to his personal hell. Brooding again, ignored his friends' banter as he watched the landscape fly by, wishing that he could join Hedwig and leave the ground, with all of its accompanying pain and heartache, behind.

* * *

><p>Harry bid his friends goodbye half-heartedly, accepted a smothering hug from a hurried Mrs. Weasley, and dragged his trunk away from the seething, overwhelming crowd that always seemed to inhabit the platform. Hopping onto his trunk to add to his admittedly short height, he scanned the crowd until he caught sight of a small group of familiar faces, apparently searching for him in a similar manner. He snorted slightly at this, and started dragging his trunk in their direction. Honestly, if Voldemort had tried to kill him as he stepped off the train, Harry would have been dead before they'd even realized he'd arrived.<p>

"Wotcher, Harry!" he heard an excitable voice call from in front of him, and lifted his head to see at a young witch with florescent pink and purple hair braided in a complicated hairdo on top of her head. Combined with gold eyes and dark skin she had apparently chosen for today's look, it was a decidedly… interesting effect.

"Hello Tonks," he responded wearily, not that she noticed. She grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the waiting Order members, chattering obliviously the entire time. Harry took advantage of her distraction to examine the other two wizards who had appeared. Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared the same as ever, and gave him a slow nod and a small smile. Remus Lupin, on the other hand, looked like he had been dragged through a bush by the seat of his trousers and had forgotten to change clothes before coming to the station. Harry winced slightly in sympathy for the older wizard. To lose such a good friend, the only other true Marauder left, had to be a blow to the man's already suffering health. He forced a smile for the other man's sake and addressed him quietly. "Hello Professor. Everything alright?" He cursed himself slightly for the inane question. Of course it wasn't all right! He himself could attest to that.

"Everything's fine Harry." Remus replied before turning and walking stiffly towards an unoccupied area of the platform. "Dumbledore had a few things to take care of at Hogwarts, so he'll be meeting us at Grimmauld Place in about an hour. He suggested you take the time to explore, see if there's anything you want to take with you," he finished, his voice terse. Harry trailed after him, slightly hurt and confused by the man's tone and actions. Surely Remus wasn't upset with him? Yes, he had been reckless in going to the Ministry, but he would never have thought that Remus, of all people, would blame him for the death of his godfather. Pushing his thoughts back quickly, he turned uncertainly to Kingsley.

"So how are we getting there this time? I don't see any brooms with you this time," Harry joked. Kingsley smirked slightly at this.

"Yes, well, this time we didn't let Alastor do the planning," he drawled, amusement colouring his deep voice. "Merlin only knows what he would have come up with. No, we'll be apparating to just outside the wards. Have you ever apparated before?" Harry shook his head curiously, and Kingsley smiled reassuringly at him. "Nothing to worry about, but it is a bit disconcerting the first few times. Just take a deep breath beforehand and…"

"We're wasting time, Kingsley," Remus interrupted, still scanning the crowds instead of looking at them. "We should have had him there five minutes ago."

"Yes, of course," Kingsley soothed, a slight frown on his face as he watched the ragged werewolf. "Hold on to my arm Harry, as tightly as you can manage." Harry stepped forward and gripped the man's left arm tightly in his own. He watched as Tonks and Remus took up positions on either side of him, and a moment later three sharp _cracks_ split the air, unnoticed in the bustling noise of the crowd.

* * *

><p>Harry sneezed violently as dust from the thick carpet covering the stairs wafted up towards his face with every step he took. He paused for a second, the sneeze making his still uncertain stomach clench slightly. He made a face and decided to be grateful he hadn't lost what little breakfast he had managed to eat all over Kingsley's robes. Disconcerting, indeed. He continued up the stairs, the quiet murmuring of the three Order members gathered in the kitchen fading as he climbed.<p>

Frowning slightly as he walked, he glanced around the dark, gloomy hallway, barely lit enough to show him the way. The gloom threw sinister shadows, mostly thanks to the house elf heads still adorning the walls. He sneered slightly in disgust at the whole house, painfully recalling his godfather's own feelings for the place. Despite the Weasley matron's valiant efforts, the house seemed to have a mind of its own, and things kept appearing no matter what they did to it. Harry rolled his eyes slightly as he crept around the curtains covering the portrait of Sirius' mother. Somehow, he got the feeling Kreacher had been behind much of this, including the dust he was attempting to avoid breathing. His footsteps slowed as his thoughts turned to the vile little elf. If Harry owned Grimmauld Place, then surely he owned the family elf, didn't he? And if he owned the betrayer of his godfather, well then…

His increasingly vicious thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he came to the door of the room Sirius had been sleeping in. He knew that Sirius had another room from his teenage years as well, but remembered the man muttering something about "crazy old hags" and several interesting- sounding hexes, so he figured he would steer clear for a while. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and pushed the heavy wooden door open so he could walk into the room.

The old lamps automatically lit up as he entered, illuminating a room just as dank and gloomy as the rest of the house. The room showed signs of Sirius attempting to lighten the mood, like the bright red curtains surrounding the bed, and the red and gold wallpaper, but the suffocating atmosphere of the house seemed to be dulling the bright colours, making them look more mocking than cheerful. He swept his gaze over a dark wardrobe, containing a few dusty robes, a battered trunk, which upon inspection held nothing but a few prank products and Sirius' old school things, and the old musty bed in the corner. Finally, his gaze landed on the large wooden desk in the corner and he wandered over, though he knew Sirius wasn't really one to sit quietly and work. He smiled sadly as his suspicions proved correct when the top appeared empty and the top drawers contained a few crumpled pieces of parchment and some broken quills.

Feeling oddly disappointed, Harry turned away, only to bark his shin painfully on a slightly open drawer at the very bottom of the desk. He frowned in confusion at the large drawer, and then glanced down at his shin. How had he not noticed such an obvious obstacle? Turning back to the desk, he frowned as he lost track of the drawer again. He was certain it had been right…_ there_.

As soon as he recalled exactly where the drawer had been located, it suddenly seemed to become visible again, and innocently ignored his suspicious glare. Harry smacked himself on the forehead suddenly as his brain caught up with the rest of him. _A Notice-Me-Not charm or something similar then, _he mused as he eyed the drawer speculatively. And if Sirius had gone to such lengths to hide it, then it really must have been important, as Sirius rarely seemed to take things that seriously. Harry cautiously pulled open the drawer, knowing Sirius' defences would likely involve highly humiliating and slightly painful pranks. Therefore, he was slightly surprised when nothing happened, and he peered carefully into the deep drawer. All it contained was a small box, the size of a box of matches, and a thick letter.

Placing both on the empty desk surface, he realized the small box was actually a travelling trunk, one of the expensive ones. He remembered seeing one in Hogsmeade, and swearing to buy one the next chance he got, since they had a certain spot on the side that could be activated without magic to enlarge or shrink the trunk. He just knew that would come in handy at the Dursleys. Ignoring the trunk for the moment, he turned to the letter on the desk and froze, a slight shiver running up his spine as he finally saw the name written on it. _Harry Potter_.

Sirius had been writing to him before he died, then. He reached out a shaking hand, but before he could open the letter and read his godfather's last words to him, a loud call from the ground floor startled him. Harry glanced between the door and the letter uncertainly. He knew that there was no reason to hide it, and it would probably be kinder of him to share with Remus, but he really didn't feel like sharing at the moment, not with the way Remus was acting. This was the last thing his godfather would ever give him. Glancing quickly around the room, he darted to the wardrobe and grabbed a black silk cloak, quickly stuffing the trunk and the letter into one of the inner pockets, before rushing out of the room and down the stairs.

He slowed his steps as the front door came into view, revealing his guard and one Albus Dumbledore in bright magenta robes, his long white hair and beard braided with lime green ribbons. Blinking and shaking his head slightly to clear his vision, Harry descended the remaining steps and stood a few feet away from the headmaster.

"Afternoon, sir," he mumbled, glancing around at the others so he wouldn't have to look at the headmaster. He was pretty sure that if he and Dumbledore were left alone together anytime soon, he wasn't going to be able to contain the burning resentment he could feel boiling in his gut.

"Ah, good afternoon, Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed, with a bright smile and twinkling blue eyes aimed in his direction. Harry didn't bother to hide his frown at this. Really, the man was acting like they had all met at the Leaky Cauldron for a drink, not to confirm a dead man's will. His disapproval did nothing to dim the Headmaster's mood. "I do apologize for the delay, but the house elves were quite distraught. Peeves, of course, playing his usual last minute games. He really does miss the students over the summer, poor thing." Dumbledore continued, apparently not noticing the odd looks he was receiving from the rest of the group. "But that is not why we are here. Did you happen to find anything of interest, Harry?" he inquired, his suddenly sharp eyes alighting on the cloak Harry was holding. Harry forced himself not to stiffen, and glanced at his feet instead.

"Not really, sir," he said in the direction of his shoelaces. "I just wanted to have _something _of his, you know, anything really. A reminder…" He trailed off sadly and completely squashed the almost non-existent voice that felt guilty for the lie. He padded softly over to his trunk and placed the cloak inside, before turning back to the others. "So, the wards?" he questioned, eager to get away from the house and somewhere private so he could read the letter.

"Yes, of course, the wards." Dumbledore smiled at him kindly, and Harry looked away with a scowl. "Well, the fact that they let you in at all is very promising, but we really should be sure. If you truly own this house, then its bound servants will be required to obey you. In this case…"

"_Kreacher_," Harry growled, clenching his fist as anger swept through him. He forcibly relaxed at Dumbledore's stern look, but it did not change his opinion. "If you expect me to call him here, after what he did to Sirius, and not do anything to him, then you have…!"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted him sternly, "I know what Kreacher did was very wrong, but in his own way, Sirius is just as responsible for his own death. Had he not treated Kreacher in such a fashion, Kreacher would not have felt the need to leave. Simply call him here, and if he answers, order him to work with the other elves at Hogwarts. They can keep an eye on him for us." Harry stared at him in disbelief, almost shocked out of his anger. Had Dumbledore just blamed Sirius for his own death? Yeah, Sirius hadn't been the nicest to Kreacher, but the little monster had hardly been sunshine and rainbows either. He quivered with the desire to punch the Headmaster, one good pop right on the nose. Really, he'd been feeling so _violent_ lately.

"Kreacher!" he snarled at the empty air, looking away from the Headmaster hurriedly to avoid a catastrophe. A quiet_ pop_ rang through the air, and the squat, ugly house elf appeared in the middle of the group, mouth open, no doubt to begin a screaming protest of his new position. Harry cut him off before a single syllable escaped. "Don't you dare say a word, or even _move_ without permission, you foul little…" Kreacher's mouth snapped shut automatically, and he stood stiffly, glaring at Harry with his large, watery eyes. Harry glanced up at the Headmaster. "Well obviously, it works, or he'd be screaming his fool head off." He pointed out irritably, before addressing the wretched creature before him. "Kreacher, go to Hogwarts and work with the elves there. Do whatever they tell you, and do not ever leave without my permission. Get out of my sight." He snapped, turning away so he wouldn't have to see the look he was sure the elf was shooting at him. He knew it would be just the right one to break his already shaky control.

Turning back at the slight _pop_, Harry caught sight of Dumbledore's disapproving face, but cut him off before he could start. "Please Professor, I've had a really long day, and I just want to get out of here," he pleaded. He knew he was exaggerating a bit, but the atmosphere was starting to suffocate him. Dumbledore sighed before gesturing at the door.

"Of course, my dear boy. Besides, we wouldn't want to keep your relatives waiting any longer, would we?" Harry snorted inwardly at this, but moved towards his trunk and the front door. "Remus, Nymphadora, I believe Kingsley can take it from here," Dumbledore continued, "I'm sure you both have work to finish up."

"See you, Harry!" Tonks called out cheerfully as she skipped down the dark hallway to the kitchen and the floo. Remus gave him a sharp nod before stalking after Tonks, the deep shadows under his eyes giving him a slightly sinister look. Harry watched him sadly before turning back to Dumbledore.

"Will I be coming back this summer?" he questioned, unsure if he was hopeful or not. Sure, he hated the place, but nowhere was as bad as the Dursleys.

"We shall see, Harry, we shall see," Dumbledore hummed, "It may not be safe to move you as we have done previous years. I will let you know as soon as possible." Ignoring Harry's incredulous look, he swept of after his departing Order members, leaving Harry and Kingsley to stare at each other in the dark hallway.

"Well then," Kingsley broke the silence suddenly, a slight smile on his face. "Think your stomach can take another spin?" He jerked his head at the door, eyeing Harry in amusement. Harry grimaced before he chuckled slightly and followed Kingsley outside so they could apparate to his relative's house.

* * *

><p>A sharp <em>crack<em> split the air, disturbing the silence of the early evening in Privet Drive. A few muggles sitting near open windows glanced around curiously, before shrugging and returning to their activities. Had they investigated further, they would have seen a short teen and a tall, oddly-dressed man in front of the one of the houses, the number four its only distinguishing mark from its identical neighbours. At the moment though, Harry hardly cared about discovery; he was too busy trying not to hyperventilate.

_There's no reason to panic. They have no way of knowing about Sirius. Everything's going to be fine_. For some reason, his body wasn't listening to his mind's logic and refused to calm down as he dragged his feet up to the front door. Evidently, Kingsley noticed his reluctance, and tried to reassure him as he prepared to leave.

"Don't worry, Harry," he rumbled quietly, "Dumbledore explained the situation to them earlier. I'm sure they will be as considerate as they know how to be." Kingsley shot the house a mildly doubtful look, as if unsure about the truth of his own words. Harry stiffened at this and turned back to face the older man.

"What do you mean, Dumbledore explained the situation? What was there to explain?" he blurted quickly. _Please, please tell me he didn't_…

"He wrote them a letter, I believe," Kingsley explained, oblivious to Harry's inner screaming, "Told them what happened to Sirius, and that they should help you get through this as best they can." Before Harry could even register his horror, loud _thuds_ were heard from inside the house and the door was jerked open forcefully. There stood his uncle, even larger and more red-faced than Harry remembered him being, though the latter could be contributed to the large bottle of whiskey clenched in one pudgy hand.

"What are you doing standing on the porch, boy? What if the neighbours notice," his uncle hissed, the words slurring slightly. Harry heard Kingsley draw in his breath, probably to say something that would throw his uncle into a rage, and shot the man a warning glance.

"Sorry uncle," he mumbled, before turning to Kingsley. "It's nothing new. I can handle it," he quietly reassured the man. Kingsley watched Vernon Dursley warily as Harry dragged his trunk up to the door.

"Don't forget to write the Order. We want to make sure you're doing alright," he managed to get out, before Vernon grabbed both the trunk and Harry, shutting the door in the wizards face. A muffled _crack_ slipped past the wood a few seconds later, and Harry's insides chilled as he watched his Uncle shove his trunk under the stairs and lock the cupboard with a heavy padlock. He took an involuntary step backwards as his uncle turned to face him, face already creased with anger and a sick sort of glee.

"Oh no, you don't!" Vernon lunged forward, pinning him to the wall and causing his head to slam against it sharply. "We've got _years_ of punishment you skipped out on, you little freak! Don't think I've forgotten those freak friends of yours, or what you did to Dudley," he snarled as he dragged a barely conscious Harry up the stairs. "You haven't got a godfather to hide behind now, boy!"

Harry landed painfully on his back on the floor of the smallest bedroom, and as his uncle snapped the door shut and approached unsteadily, he had one though in his hazy mind.

_Dumbledore is going to pay for this_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: Okay, not the most interesting first chapter, but it gets more exciting soon, I swear! This will be an animagus fic, where Harry gets stuck. Yes, not the most original, but have you noticed almost nobody ever_ finishes_ those? Therefore, I Solemnly Swear to Finish This Story. As long as people decide to read it, of course.


	2. Broken

Chapter 2: Broken

_Disclaimer: I do not own this. This belongs to JKR._

**AN**: Alright, Harry's animagus form will bug some people. My plot kind of requires it so… sorry? I swear he won't be some wacked-out, super-powered magical creature hybrid or anything like that though.

* * *

><p>Harry dragged himself out of the blackness slowly and painfully, not moving from his curled position on the bed. Sucking in his breath, he tried not to cough, as he knew from experience that it would only cause his sore ribs a great deal of pain. Sluggishly, he stretched his legs out and uncurled his fingers, making sure not to further aggravate the injuries he had accumulated over the past week.<p>

A week. Was that really how long it had been? He blinked open his one functional eye, as the other was currently swelled shut, and thought back. Yes, a week seemed about right. And his uncle had wasted no time in making Harry pay for all of his crimes over the past few years, both real and imagined.

Harry dragged himself off the bed, ignoring the twinge of pain his twisted ankle shot him, and waited next to the door for his aunt to let him out. Not bothering to put on his already shattered glasses, he examined his failing body as he waited. The few potions that could have helped him this summer were locked down in his trunk, along with the letter he was desperate to read. He straightened up as best he could as the locks on his door snapped back and his aunt pushed it open.

"Out!" she sniffed, not even looking at him before continuing downstairs. His aunt had spent the week ignoring him, as if he didn't exist if she couldn't see him. Harry got the feeling she was grateful her husband focused his negative attentions somewhere other than her or Dudley. He sighed and made his painful way to the bathroom, glad he had taken his shirt off before going to bed. He would have had to peel it off his back otherwise.

After a short, cold shower which stained the water and his ratty towel red, he cautiously descended the stairs and fixed breakfast with the ease of long practice, snatching some bacon and a piece of toast before escaping outside to do his chores. He remained outside and busy over the course of the day, waiting impatiently for nightfall, since his uncle and aunt would be going to a fancy dinner party, and he knew that this was his best chance to get what he needed out from his trunk. He still remembered learning how to pick locks with Fred and George after all.

He glanced up at the late afternoon sun as he washed off with the hose, hoping to spot Hedwig somewhere nearby, but not really expecting it. She had not appeared since his uncle had last chased her off with a shotgun, and he was slightly hopeful she had gone for help. Surely Dumbledore couldn't ignore such an obvious sign that something was off, could he?

Frowning slightly, he stuck his head in through the back door, and then slipped in quietly, hoping to make it safely upstairs before his aunt and uncle left. His uncle usually forgot to lock him in, unless he had just been punished, so if he could just make it upstairs before…

A nearby door slammed open as he reached the top of the steps, sending his hope plummeting to the region of his toes. Vernon Dursley stormed out of the bedroom, a bundle of orange fabric clenched in his meaty fist. Harry froze and watched his uncle's quickly reddening face with familiar dismay. _Maybe if I make him mad enough he'll have a heart attack. That would solve most of my problems._

"You! How _dare_ you!" His uncle seemed beside himself with rage at whatever incident he had blamed on Harry, but Harry was used to this and quickly tried to figure out what he was being accused of. He didn't have to wait long as Vernon shook the hideously orange fabric in front of his face, displaying an ugly bleach stain across the front. "My best shirt, on the night of the company dinner! You _planned_ this, didn't you, boy? Trying to make me lose my job, are you?"

Harry blinked at this statement in confusion. He had been working outside all day; therefore Aunt Petunia must have been the one to do the laundry. He knew better than to voice this observation though, and he quickly searched for something that might lessen his uncle's ire.

"I don't -" He got no further before his uncle's fist collided with the side of his face, sending him backwards down the stairs. His head slammed into the banister with a sharp crack, and he felt the wounds on his back reopen as they hit the unyielding steps. His tumble down the stairs ended abruptly as his right forearm caught in one of the rails of the banister, and then broke with another sickening sound. Harry couldn't hold in his howl of pain as he cradled his arm close to his chest, the stabbing agony adding to his already throbbing body and nearly knocking him out from the pain.

"Vernon! We're going to be late if we wait any longer! You can deal with it later." Harry heard his aunt's whiny voice indistinctly as though he was wearing earmuffs, and he distantly felt her light steps walking straight past him. He wondered if she had even looked at him in order to avoid him, but he supposed that wouldn't be healthy for her fragile bubble of denial. He was brought sharply back to reality as his uncle grabbed the neck of his shirt and dragged him to his room, each careless movement sending sharp stabs of pain through his arm and head. When his back hit the floor of the smallest bedroom, blackness overtook his vision for a few seconds, and he missed his uncle's parting snarls as the door was locked.

Curling up around his arm to raise his bleeding back off the floor, Harry did his best to ignore the pain, cursing the lost opportunity to get to the first aid in his trunk. He had no idea how long he stayed there, lost in his misery, before he heard a soft noise in the doorway. Glancing up, he stiffened in surprise as he saw his cousin, Dudley, staring at him nervously from the now- open entrance. He had not really seen Dudley the whole week and now that he thought about it, there had been none of the taunting and bullying that had haunted his previous summers. Harry had assumed memory of the dementors kept him away.

"I… I… It's…" Dudley was sweating now, glancing nervously towards the front door, obviously ready to bolt at any sign that his father was returning. Upon receiving no such sign, Dudley quickly turned around and dragged something heavy over the threshold of Harry's room. Harry blinked as he recognized his trunk and wondered distantly how his cousin had managed to get through the padlock. Dudley pushed the lid of the trunk open quickly, before he stopped and turned back to Harry, clearly at a loss.

"C-can't you… I don't know… do something? Like that glowing thing last summer? T-that makes everything better, right?" Dudley babbled, his voice growing more high-pitched as his nervousness grew. Harry was understandably stunned. Dudley was _helping_ him? Why would…? He stopped as what Dudley said sank in; the patronus. Was Dudley repaying him for chasing away the dementors? He supposed it was the only explanation that made sense at the moment.

Determinedly ignoring the pain, Harry dragged himself over to the open trunk and dug carefully though it until he found a pain-relieving potion, downing the vial in one swallow. He sighed in relief at the immediate effect, then flinched as Dudley yelped and fled the room at the sound of a car door slamming outside. He listened breathlessly for a few seconds before deciding it was one of the neighbours, and he dug his wand out of the mess in his trunk.

He frowned thoughtfully at his wand for a few minutes. He could actually follow Dudley's advice and cast a Patronus Charm; he knew they could be used as messengers. The problem was he had no idea how to send it as a message and the ministry would immediately register the underage magic. He had physical evidence of his problem this time, but he still had no desire to risk his wand just yet. The only reason he had escaped judgment last time was Dumbledore's intervention, and considering the man's usual reactions to Harry's complaints about his family, he was uncertain he would have that support.

Harry quickly pulled out his invisibility cloak, the extra food, all useful potions, and Sirius' cloak before closing the trunk and shoving it into his empty closet. Hopefully his uncle wouldn't check the cupboard or his closet before he had a chance to put it back. After stashing everything but the silk cloak under the bed, he pulled out the trunk and the letter and put them on the bed. Using an old, but sharp army knife he had salvaged from a dumpster, he quickly cut the cloak into strips and fashioned a makeshift sling for his injured arm, before he turned back to the letter. Impatient after a long week of suspense, he quickly slit open the top of the envelope, pulled out the thick letter, and started to read.

_Dear Harry_

_First off, let me tell you that you are in BIG trouble! You'll be lucky if you can hear after the talk we're going to have as soon as I catch up to you! I'm sure by now you're looking all innocent and confused. I'm talking about the bloody Dursleys! How could you not tell me about what they did to you? Why did I have to learn this from Snape, of all the people? He told me all about those botched Occlumency lessons of yours, even showed me a few of the memories he got from you. They're not still doing it, are they? If they are, I may earn that sentence in Azkaban._

_Let me make this real clear, right now. You are not staying with those people this summer. I've sent a package along with this letter that will have everything you'll need, and I'll be under your window as Padfoot the first night of summer vacation, alright? We'll head off somewhere warm and sunny, get out of Britain. The Ministry can go and fight this war for a few years, instead of leaning on a teenager!_

_I'm not saying we should abandon the war entirely, but you are not ready to fight just yet, and at the rate Dumbledore's training you, you never will be. The only reason you got away from Voldemort last year was your wand, and that won't help you against the Death Eaters. I know some excellent Dueling schools out in Italy, a few years there would do more good than what you're learning now don't you think? I know you'd miss your friends, but if you stay in Britain, you're going to end up dead right quick. _

_Snape's not really the sort I would've thought would help you, but he seems bloody furious about the whole thing! I suppose I can agree with the greasy bat there as well. Shocking, isn't it? He seems to think that Dumbledore won't be any help here. Normally, I'd go to Dumbledore for anything, but I don't see how he couldn't know about it, not with old Arabella Figg watching you your whole life. I'm sorry, Harry. I know you've always looked up to the man, but the fact is he's leading a war. Leaders have to make the hard choices, sacrifice the good of one for the good of many and all that rot. That may be his duty, but I will not let your life be the one he sacrifices! The greater good can go to hell, and Dumbledore can go right along with it if necessary._

_Now, I hate Snape's guts, and the feeling's entirely mutual, but when the man makes a plan he doesn't do it half-assed. At the bottom of the package you get with this letter there'll be a potion of some sort. DO NOT let anyone see this potion! Even owning it is worth ten years in Azkaban. You don't want to know just how many of its ingredients are illegal as well, or just plain near impossible to find. We got the potion and the ritual out of one of the book in the Black Library. The ministry has labelled it as dark, mostly for political reasons, though if you factor in the ingredients, the freaking impossible brewing instructions, and the pain it's rumoured to cause and you understand why it's not widely known. The Marauder's never even knew about it when we were in school. _

_Here's the gist of it; back in the first war, a lot of shady smugglers had trouble getting supplies to their clientele. So instead, they found a way to make their products instead, by kidnapping people and forcing them to turn into the smuggler's choice of magical animal, using the potion, a ritual, and a bit of the chosen animal. Usually, this ended in the victim being butchered for supplies, but the one redeeming this about this ritual is that it has a counterpart, which will allow you to change forms at will, basically bypassing the usual year of required sturdy. Snape got a phoenix feather somewhere, he says from Fawkes, though I think he's full of shite. It's not the form I'd have chosen for you, but I guess it'll make escapes a bit easier. _

_Don't do the ritual before you get to your relatives' place. Once you're transformed, you'll be stuck until I can get you human again. In the trunk you'll find fake papers for both of us and a few other necessities, so make sure you have it nearby. Remember, the first night of vacation, okay? If your relatives go after you again, get out of there and I'll find you._

_Stay strong, kiddo, and don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of you from now on. I swear._

_Padfoot_

* * *

><p>Harry felt drained as he finished reading the letter, numbness taking over after the barrage of emotions that had swept through him as he read. Sirius had been coming to help him. Swiping his hand over his face, he was mildly surprised to find them damp, probably from the end of the letter. <em>So much for promises<em>. He snorted at that, feeling slightly bitter, but he knew it wasn't Sirius' fault. He started to feel slightly queasy; intellectually, he had known that Dumbledore wasn't the saint he used to imagine, but to have his suspicions confirmed by someone who used to be one of Dumbledore's biggest supporters… Somehow, it hurt him more than he expected it to, and he quickly tried to shove the feeling aside.

Turning back to the trunk, he rummaged through it, stopping for a minute to examine the fake papers: Jamie Evans and Romulus White. Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes slightly, deciding that with Sirius leading the escape they probably wouldn't have gone a day without being recognized. Once he found a small bundle wrapped in black cloth and a thick, dusty book, he tapped the trunk to shrink it and shoved it under the floorboards along with the letter.

The potion underneath the cloth looked rather… evil, if he was being truthful with himself. Dark brown gunk with red and black spots swirled lazily in the clear crystal vial, occasionally attempting to climb up the sides as if trying to escape. He shuddered slightly at the thought of putting that in his stomach, but pushed his squeamishness down. After he shook out the cloth, he caught a flash of orange and caught the feather as it floated slowly to the floorboards. Despite its bright appearance, it held none of the feelings he usually associated with phoenixes. It felt cold, lifeless, and he quietly placed it next to the potion before glancing at the clock.

With the knowledge that he wouldn't have a lot of time until the Dursley's got home, Harry grabbed the heavy book, flipped it to the marked page and scanned the ritual, frowning at how simple it seemed for a supposed Dark ritual. He supposed the potion must do most of the work. He was a bit unsure how he felt about doing something Dark, but decided that Sirius wouldn't have given him anything horrible. The letter had said political reasons, after all. He reread the ritual until he was sure he had it memorized, drawing out the four key runes on parchment before closing the book and sliding it under the bed.

Harry jumped up from the ground and hurried over to the battered desk in the corner, snatching up an ink bottle and carefully painted the runes around him on the floor, each rune on a main compass point, leaving himself plenty of room in the middle. It took a little longer using his left hand, but it wasn't the first time he'd had to compensate for injuries. He grabbed the potion, the knife, and the feather and eased down in the middle of the symbols. Hesitantly, he reached his left hand over his shoulder and squeezed his shirt, covering his hand in the slowly drying blood, and then reached out and brushed each of the runes with the fluid.

_Instantly_, he felt magic spring up around him as the runes came to life, sliding over his skin like slick, cold oil. Harry froze as the reality of what he was finally sank in. This magic was _Dark_, very heavily Dark. For a moment, he considered stopping, then shook the thought off with a scowl. If no one was going to help him, he would do help himself the only way he knew how.

He reached for the stopper of the vial, then pulled back. If what Sirius implied was true, he was going to end up as a phoenix. A bird. He could hardly fly off with a broken wing, but he supposed that if he waited long enough for his arm to heal, he would either be dead or too injured to move at all. Before he could move on to the next step, he heard the noise he'd been subconsciously dreading all night; the Dursley's car, pulling into the driveway.

Fumbling slightly in his panic, he grabbed the knife and clumsily sliced a line down his left arm, then snatched up the phoenix feather and covered it as thickly as he could before ripping the stopper off the vial. As he shoved the feather inside the wide glass mouth, the potion hissed angrily, broiling inside the container, and turned a thick, tar-like black. He jumped violently, his heart in his throat, as the front door slammed open and his uncle's thick voice echoed up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he choked down the potion… and immediately collapsed.

* * *

><p><em>Agony.<em>

_Wrenching, burning, shattering agony. _

_Hot lava slides through his veins, bones shatter, twist up through his scorching skin, pulling, bending, shaping, can't move, can't breathe, make it stop, why why WHY did he do this?_

_Ice. Hatred, sadness, panic, guilt, can't hide anymore, coldness creeping up from the inside, finally he screams. Endless, agonizing, force it out, share the suffering. _

_The fire overtakes his vision, the last thing he sees as he falls._

* * *

><p>I considered this chapter a necessary evil, since poor Harry had no one to talk to in this chapter, did he? No worries, he gets some friends in the next chapter, even if he wishes they would jump off a cliff instead. Three guesses who…?<p>

Oh, and I have a feeling we'll be seeing dear Vernon again, and Dudley as well. *Evil cackle*


	3. Taken

Chapter 3: Taken

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. _

Harry moaned quietly as he slowly awakened, wondering what his uncle had done to him this time. He _ached_, a fierce, bone-deep ache that cut through his drowsiness enough that he opened his eyes cautiously. Fire. A wall of fire extended over his head, crackling merrily as it ate at the logs piled in the black marble fireplace he was currently lying in front of. He blinked at it stupidly for a moment until he realized that Dudley's second bedroom had definitely not had a fireplace.

Immediately, he jerked upright… and quickly decided that movement was a very bad idea as the pain landed him flat once more. He hissed at the pain before registering how oddly his body had felt as he had moved. He closed his mouth and an audible _click_ rang through the room… and he remembered.

Lifting his head carefully to avoid any more discomfort, Harry internally grimaced at how odd it felt. Feathers brushed against each other as he moved; he glanced back to see deep red and orange, his long, slightly bedraggled tail feathers shading to a deep gold. His heart suddenly pounded with belated happiness and surprise. It had worked!

_::Ah. Finally awake, are you? I was beginning to wonder if those muggles had damaged you permanently.:: _Harry jerked violently at the sudden voice, though he regretted it instantly, and glanced around the large room in search of the source. A rustle of feathers above him made him glance up, and from the mantle above the fireplace came…

_::Fawkes?:: _Harry's voice seemed to come out as a quiet peep, and he quickly realized that neither of them had actually _spoken_. He ignored this revelation in favour of studying the other bird, who had fluttered down from the mantle and was now assessing him critically. Harry painfully drew his feet up under him and pulled his good arm…wing…closer to his side, though he knew better than to move the other wing just yet.

_::I suppose that means your mind is intact as well. Good. At least not all of this was a waste.::_ Fawkes settled down on the ground in front of him; his long tail met the fire and seemed to blend in eerily. _::I brought you here as soon as the potion took effect, although I believe you were mostly unconscious at that point. As Albus would never suspect a phoenix of stealing you, the wards will remain undisturbed. It will likely be some time before he realizes you are gone.::_

Harry vaguely remembered the flames he saw during the ritual, though he had written them off as a hallucination. He supposed he had gotten lucky, since the transformation had done nothing for his injuries. _::So, where is here then? And would you be willing to heal me a little?:: _he queried uncertainly_. ::I can barely move like this::_

_::No. That would be counterproductive::_ The larger phoenix stated flatly, and Harry blinked in confused disbelief. How was healing him counterproductive? _::Tell me, Harry Potter, what do you know of phoenixes? Do you understand what it is you have become?::_

_::Well, I…only what Dumbledore told me, really. Immortal, loyal, a few other things:: _Harry recited uncertainly. He had always thought that Fawkes' personality would be quite similar to Dumbledore's, or at least cheerful. The cold stare and cutting responses were beginning to make him a bit wary.

_::Nothing of importance, then::_ Fawkes stood and stretched his wings lazily, sending a hot breeze ruffling through Harry's feathers. _::Phoenixes are not Light creatures, no matter what wizards would rather believe. Neither are we Dark. We are simply creatures of great magic, and as such, we are drawn to magic of similar greatness. _

_::I don't understand::_

_::Then let me finish before interrupting me, idiot child:: _Fawkes glared at him until he dropped his head to study the dark marble floor. _::Every creature has necessities for survival, and for us, it is power. You will never meet a phoenix without a wizard, and that is because we cannot exist without one. We absorb their power and we turn it into our own. Unfortunately, few wizards these days have the power required, as an average wizard would find himself powerless after a few days bonded to a phoenix. That is why there are so few of us left, when there used to be hundreds.:: _he finished sadly, turning his head to watch the fire.

Harry shifted as something occurred to him. _::Wait… Are you saying I need to become somebody's pet if I want to survive?:: _he asked incredulously. Fawkes gave him a look that spoke volumes of exasperation at his slowness to understand.

_::Obviously. You are a phoenix now, are you not? Without your godfather to teach you, you have no way to transform and no means of communication. As you are unable to transform, your current form will soon require an external magic source. I brought you to the only unclaimed wizard powerful enough to sustain you.:: _

At this, Harry carefully lifted his head and looked behind him to study the room. Only a few feet behind him were a few green velvet armchairs resting on the beginning of a luxurious carpet, and several feet beyond them he could catch glimpses of a large desk, stacked neatly with papers. Dark cherry bookshelves lined three of the walls, crammed with books and other knickknacks, with space between two for a heavy oak door. The last wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, though it was still too dark outside for him to see anything. He looked back at Fawkes suspiciously.

_::Who is it then? You still haven't told me where we are!:: _Harry could feel himself becoming slightly hysterical, and he had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

_::Surely you are not so simple-minded, Harry Potter.:: _Fawkes sighed_. ::Who is the only wizard you know of with the power to match Albus?:: _

Harry froze, his insides seizing up in horror and denial. _::You didn't… you can't actually mean Voldemort?:: _he screeched, backing away from the other phoenix before the pain stuck him in place. _::The man who killed my parents, who's trying to kill me! Are you bloody insane!:: _

_::Many truly powerful wizards have killed. I believe their excess power makes them unstable, until they find an outlet. You would actually help to calm his power.:: _Fawkes seemed highly amused at Harry's panic, and Harry hissed at him furiously. This did nothing, but remind him that his ribs were very unhappy at the moment. _::When you have seen the centuries I have, child, death will not bother you so. In fact, I find the chaos murder brings is a welcome break from the monotony that often accompanies immortality. I remember well my years with Gellert Grindelwald. Life with Albus is rather a disappointment after the excitement Gellert brought to the world._

_::Grindelwald? You were Grindelwald's…familiar?:: _Harry was almost shocked out of his anger at this, and wondered if Dumbledore knew this bit of information.

_::Ah, yes. Now, there was a truly powerful man. Albus always had a little more control of himself though, and that made all the difference. Gellert was more like your young Dark Lord of today. In fact, I'm rather shocked he has not been claimed, that pitiful snake aside.::_

_::Yeah? Well, I'm certainly not! He's probably painfully dismembered anything that tried! You're going to get me killed!:: _He was not going to panic. This was a sick, twisted hallucination, brought about by blood loss and strange potions. That would teach him to mess around with Dark rituals.

_::You would die within a week without him anyway. At least this way you will die quickly, instead of starving to death.::_ Fawkes stated matter-of-factly. _::Actually, I'm rather interested to see how he will handle a wounded phoenix in his study. Likely not a situation he's seen before.::_

Harry stared at him, dumbfounded. Was this simply a game to Fawkes? He supposed after the centuries, one human life would not seem so important, but surely if Dumbledore wanted him alive, his familiar should as well! Before he could come up with a convincing argument for leaving as fast as possible, the sound of low voices and many footsteps reached his ears.

_::Well then, I believe this is where we part, Harry Potter.:: _Fawkes ruffled his feathers and watched him with interest. _::Do remember, you are not the same boy you were two hours ago; you are not the saviour of the wizarding world. You are a phoenix, and the only thing expected of you is that you follow your instincts. I suggest you do so.::_

And before Harry could protest, the phoenix flung himself into the air and disappeared in a small burst of fire.

* * *

><p>Harry watched the door warily from his spot in front of the fire; he had thought about hiding under one of the armchairs, but his body was dead set against him moving anywhere at the moment. He wondered if his own tears would be effective for healing, but he somehow doubted it. With no time to devise a plan, he resolved to give as good as he got, and waited apprehensively as the door to the room opened.<p>

"…would not have been such a mess if you had done it during Fudge's term, but Scrimgeour will not be as lenient. You could have set us back weeks with that stunt, Avery!" Harry almost sighed with relief as he recognized Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic tones. His relief didn't last long as he considered how unlikely it was that Voldemort would leave Death Eaters unsupervised in his office.

"It wasn't my fault, Malfoy!" somebody snarled back. Harry wished he could see past the chairs blocking his view, but decided to be grateful he had a little more coverage. "If Lestrange had been where he was supposed to be…"`

"Don't blame me for your inability to follow orders, Avery," another man interrupted. "You know it will only… Is that a phoenix?" Harry stiffened as the other Death Eaters snapped to attention at the man's words. Lucius was the second one to spot him, and one perfect eyebrow rose in surprise as he strode over to the fireplace. He looked the same as ever to Harry, with his mask off and his long blond hair loose around his shoulders. Harry hissed at him weakly, and Lucius stopped a short distance away, though Harry doubted it would last long.

"Yes, it certainly is," Lucius drawled, a slight frown crossing his face. "and a rather badly injured one, at that. I have to wonder what managed to catch it. I doubt the Dark Lord would leave it unattended if he was responsible." Harry watched warily as Lucius pulled his cloak off, and then gave an undignified squawk as it landed over his head. He felt himself being carefully picked up, and could only struggle weakly as pain assaulted him from various parts of his body.

"Trust you to try and save the damned thing, Malfoy," a voice Harry recognized as Avery's sneered from nearby as Harry was lowered onto something hard. Before Harry could ponder the odd statement, a _very_ familiar voice emanated from the direction of the door way and turned his blood to ice.

"Would any of you care to explain what is happening here?" the voice hissed softly, and Harry resumed his struggles to rid himself of the cloth wrapped around him.

"Our apologies, my Lord," Harry heard Lucius' voice reply from above him, "but we discovered_ this_ on the floor." With that, he pulled the cloak off of Harry's head, and Harry blinked in the sudden light before locking gazes with his worst enemy. Voldemort looked exactly the same as the last time Harry had seen him. Bloody red eyes with slit pupils assessed him coldly, while milky white skin seemed almost scaled in the firelight. His flat, snake-like nostrils flared as he stalked towards the desk, his dark robes billowing out behind him. Harry panicked as the man drew his wand and snapped at Lucius' hand as it attempted to hold him still. Voldemort's wand tapped him sharply on the beak, and he felt it seal shut. Forgetting himself for a moment, he whipped his head up to glare indignantly at the Dark Lord, who was watching him with interest.

"I don't suppose Dumbledore had something to do with this?" For a short moment, Harry thought Voldemort was addressing him, until somebody else answered.

"I do not believe so, my Lord. Dumbledore would never injure a phoenix in such a way, even for a deception." Harry twisted around and almost cried out in relief at the sight of Snape standing near the entrance to the room. Snape's face was as blank as usual, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Harry. He strode across the room as Voldemort waved him over impatiently, and Harry held carefully still as Snape ran his wand over Harry a few times. "His wing and three of his ribs are broken. He has several bleeding lacerations running along his back, as well as signs of a head injury and a minor would to the leg, my Lord," Snape reported.

Voldemort seemed to consider the information as he sat down behind his desk, which Harry now realized Lucius had placed him on. He tried to back away towards Snape, but Voldemort placed a hand over him, pinning him to the desk. Before Harry could react, the man's magic flowed forcefully over him, the feel slick and cold and Dark, just as the ritual had been, and yet somehow the sheer power of it made it feel _right_, in a way the ritual had not. Harry melted helplessly into a boneless pile on the desk as the magic flowed through him, and his magic reached out and intertwined itself with the Dark Lord's. The man withdrew his hand and his magic, but Harry could still feel it at the edge of his mind as his magic remained very slightly connected to the man, stretching out like a rope. He barely noticed the pain as the man picked him up and handed him carelessly to one of the Death Eaters.

"Lucius, you have the most experience with such creatures. Heal what you can, and I will deal with it later. He will be docile for another hour at least. Now, Avery…" Voldemort turned away, ignoring them entirely. Harry caught Snape's eyes as he was carried out of the office, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but apathy. He realized then what Voldemort had done with his magic, since he had absolutely no reason to be this relaxed. Unfortunately, the information did nothing to help him combat the feeling. He barely heard Avery's scream of pain through the office door as Lucius carried him down a dark hallway. Dozing in the man's arms, Harry didn't rouse until he felt his beak unstick and something liquid was forced down his throat. He glared at the other man until numbness swallowed the pain and he blinked in pleased astonishment.

"Relax; I know what I'm doing. My own animagus is a bird as well. Our anatomy cannot be so different. " Lucius called from across the room they were now in. The blond Death Eater made his way back over to the table carrying several bottles and looked at Harry with exasperation. "Just let the potion do its work and don't fight me. It will be easier on both of us."

_::Like I want to make things easier for you::_ Harry growled back, but with the influence of Voldemort's earlier magic, he found himself half-asleep as the man worked. He blinked himself back awake as he heard two voices conversing, and jerked upright as he caught sight of Voldemort. When the pain did not strike as he expected it to, he glanced down at himself quickly and realized he must have been asleep for an hour or two. He could feel none of his old injuries at the moment, but he rapidly realized his broken wing had been bound to his side. He jerked violently as Voldemort's voice spoke right behind him.

"Your superficial wounds have been healed, but your bones require more time. They would be unstable otherwise." Voldemort reached down towards him and Harry snapped at the fingers in fear and dread. He could _not_ afford to let the man's magic touch his again. Instantly, he felt his beak pinned shut in Voldemort's hand, and his head was pulled painfully high until his toes barely touched the table he was resting on.

"I would think very carefully about doing that, little bird," the man hissed venomously as he watched Harry struggle, "I may not be able to kill you, but pain is something even you cannot escape." Ruthlessly, he tightened his other hand on Harry's neck until Harry saw spots dancing in front of his eyes and ceased struggling. As soon as he stopped, Voldemort released him back onto the table, and Harry lay panting and helpless on his side as Voldemort watched him shrewdly.

Harry flinched as the Dark Lord reached down again, but he only slid his hand under Harry's feet and settled him on his wrist like he would an owl before striding out of the room. Harry quivered as he felt Voldemort's magic brush along his teasingly, though he didn't think it was intentional. It made him feel lightheaded and pleasant shivers ran under his feathers. Choosing to ignore this, Harry looked around at the now-lit hallway, with a long green carpet running all the way down and dark wooden walls carved with strange glyphs. He quickly snapped back to attention Voldemort spoke again.

"Behave yourself while you are here, and I will have no reason to hurt you again. I would rather avoid that, if possible. A phoenix would be a considerable asset to the cause, and I'm sure we can find something to please you in return for your help." Harry hissed slightly in disbelief at this. Voldemort was bargaining with him? Voldemort glanced down and lifted a hairless brow at the noise, but ignored it and settled back into his own thoughts as he reached the end of the hallway and the unremarkable door that lay there. At least, it looked unremarkable until Harry realized it had no handle.

_*Open*_ Voldemort hissed softly above him, and Harry twitched as he realized the man was speaking Parseltounge. The door clicked open and they entered a very large room that was brighter than the outside hallway. Harry saw that one of the walls was actually made of windows like the study had been, and wondered if that was Voldemort's personal preference or if that was just the way the structure had been built.

Harry glanced around the room in the dim dawn light, noticing the large rug, deep greens and blues with silver decoration, the same color scheme most of the room carried. To the right as they entered was another lit fireplace, though this one had a low table and only one black armchair in front of it. More bookshelves lined the walls near the fireplace, though the books in these looked far more worn than the ones in the study, and in the far corner of the room next to the windows was a large bed with a deep emerald bedspread. Opposite the bed was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and another door that Harry assumed led to the bathroom. A soft hiss came from near the fire, and Harry realized the armchair wasn't as empty as he had thought.

_*Master has brought back a bird. Isss the bird for Nagini?*_ A large black head, as large as one of Voldemort's hands, rose up from the dark coils that blended into the armchair and focused on them, tongue flickering wildly.

_*No, my dear, he is not for you. He is very important and I need you to take care of him for me. Understood?* _Voldemort hissed back as he walked over to the armchair. Before Harry realized what had happened, Voldemort slid him off his wrist and into the center of the gleaming black coils. He froze as the black head now lowered in front of him, inspecting him thoroughly. Voldemort stepped away, and Harry wasn't sure if he should be relieved or panicked at his new position. "I have told her not to eat you, so you have nothing to fear from her. She would not dare go against my orders," Voldemort reassured arrogantly as he watched them.

_* No, no eating. Nagini will defend Master's bird, protect, yesss…*_ Nagini crooned as she tightened her coils around Harry and settled back into the chair. Harry couldn't exactly fight free, and so he got as comfortable as he could, considering the situation. He shot Voldemort a malicious glare for starting the whole thing, and one corner of the man's lips turned up in mild amusement.

"Well, you certainly don't lack spirit, do you, bird?" The Dark Lord reached out and ran his pale, spidery fingers through the plumage on Harry's head. Harry didn't dare protest when he was wrapped in a snake that could probably swallow him whole when he was human. He did begin to wonder why his head no longer hurt when Voldemort touched him, as that was almost preferable than the odd feelings the magic pulled from him now.

"Fury." Harry blinked at the other man in confusion at the sudden, random statement. "I have to call you something, and 'bird' is hardly appropriate. I doubt you could live up to anything too ornate, so it may as well be for your temperament." Voldemort elaborated, running a critical eye over the small, disheveled creature. Harry made a soft noise in protest at being named like a pet, but Voldemort ignored him. He stalked swiftly to the entrance and turned back one last time.

"Get some sleep, Fury, and consider my offer. I am sure we have much we can offer each other." With that, the man was gone, as swiftly as if he had apparated, and the door to the hallway closed as if it had never opened. Harry breathed out in a soft sigh, then flinched as the snake coiled around him shifted slightly. He turned his head to the fire as fear and anger and confusion chased each other through his head along with his increasingly worried thoughts, though one stuck out above the rest.

_What was he supposed to do now?_

* * *

><p>I actually had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I stared at the screen a lot and abused the poor backspace button terribly. I'm still not delighted with it, but it's a lot better than it was and I wanted to update before school started eating up my time on Monday. Fawkes was originally a good(Light) guy, but for some reason a morally ambiguous Fawkes amused me.<p>

A big hug and a thank you to everybody who reviewed! They make me ridiculously happy. (No, seriously, it was ridiculous.)

An even bigger thanks to xXxMartelxXx, Aoi Mitsukai, Brandy Bandshoe, and Anniriel, who's reviews helped me (and still are helping) the story better (hopefully!) and also made me smile. A lot. The question about Harry burning his room down made me laugh like a crazy person, but hopefully I answered that in this chapter. I'll have the next chapter up within a week, optimistically sooner *crosses fingers*.


	4. Speak

Chapter 4:

_Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to JKR. Everything else comes from my sick mind._

**AN: **Yes, I am very late, please forgive me. I'll try not to do it again, I swear. And I'm sure you would prefer to read the story than listen to me, right?

Ummm… Just in case:_::word::_ is phoenix. _*word*_ is Parseltongue (since we know Voldy would never share a symbol with all the other little animals, right?)

Sunlight. Useless, overrated, aggravating sunlight. Harry wished a painful, fiery death upon the creator of the sun currently shining on his face, because he was quite certain that being asleep was the better option at the moment. He burrowed his head into the cool, smooth material in front of him, before he quickly rethought this as he realized he had managed to fall asleep in the embrace of a gigantic snake. _Voldemort's _snake. Now he was certain he had left his sanity back at the Dursley's along with everything else.

Carefully, he extracted his head from the black coils and glanced warily toward the large head resting nearby to make sure he hadn't woken her up. His uncle was not a morning person, but at least with him Harry didn't have to worry about getting eaten. When the snake made no sudden movements, he glanced around the large room, glaring at the sunlight assaulting him through the large windows as anxiety began bubbling in his gut. Of all the dangerous, crazy situations he had been in throughout the years, he was certain this topped them all. He was stuck as a bird, injured, with no way to communicate and no one trustworthy to communicate with. If Voldemort found out… well, he may not be able to die in this form, but he was certain that would not stop Voldemort from trying to find a way. Probably a very painful way.

Harry resolutely ignored the sleepy hisses coming from behind him and cast his mind around for a way out of his current dilemma. Anybody in the Order was out of reach, and would only end up sending him back to the Dursley's, which was why this whole thing had begun in the first place. He paused as he remembered that there _was_ an Order member currently within reach, and one that would definitely not send him back to the Dursley's. But while Snape had been part of this plan in the first place, the man had shown no signs of recognizing him last night, and it was unlikely he'd get a chance to see the man without Voldemort nearby.

A blunt nose nudged his side, breaking his train of thought. He spun to face the drowsy snake and found a pair of luminescent green eyes watching him curiously. When Nagini nudged him again, he took the hint and climbed carefully over the gleaming coils, wincing slightly as he tugged two ridiculously long tail feathers free. Moving clumsily due to his wrapped wing and his new form, he climbed slowly up onto the arm of the chair and glared back at Nagini.

_::What are you looking at?::_ he hissed sharply, before wondering if she could understand him without Parseltongue. She flicked her tongue at him lazily.

_*Nagini isss hungry. No eating Master's bird. Not food.*_ She tipped her head to the side questioningly, as though he would have the answers, or at least food. When it became apparent that he did not, she gave what he could only describe as a sigh and slid smoothly off the armchair and toward the door. When she reached it, she pushed lightly on the bottom left corner of the wood and it shifted slightly, leaving a hole that she slithered quickly through. Harry blinked as it closed after her disappearing tail and felt slightly amused at the resemblance to a cat flap. Though it was a way out of the room, he could hardly walk unseen through the mansion, since if he looked anything like Fawkes he would stand out like a circus clown. If only he didn't have to _walk_…

He straightened as a thought struck him. Fawkes had gotten out of the building just fine, without walking or flying. Surely that flashing was just a matter of instinct and practice. However, leaving would kill him faster than staying, if Fawkes was telling the truth. But if he wasn't, Harry may as well be prepared. Turning slightly, he glared at the opposite arm of the chair in determination. He would appear over there. He would appear over there _now_!

After a few minutes of no change, he gave a huff of irritation. Maybe flight had something to do with it. He took a deep breath and, focusing all of himself on the opposite arm, leaped up into the air… only to squawk as he tumbled down into the seat of the chair again. Straitening himself quickly, he fluffed his feathers in embarrassment, feeling inordinately grateful that no one had been there to witness it, until a hissing chuckle had him ducking and twisting around in alarm.

"I see Nagini was right to find me. You obviously have no idea how to properly treat an injury, foolish creature." Voldemort was leaning against the now open doorframe, watching him in slight disapproval and barely-concealed amusement. Bright sunlight softened some of the harshness of the snakelike face, allowing Harry to quickly reel his panic back to a manageable level, though he couldn't keep from crouching slightly out of wariness. He could already feel the Dark Lord's magic, swirling and churning invisibly in the air around him like agitated snakes. He supposed this detection of magic was another bonus from his new form, though he would have been quite happy to give this one up.

The man strode over to the armchair, picked him up, and settled him easily on his left shoulder before Harry had registered the movement. Harry clung on desperately as they left the room, unbalanced by the strange position and his bound wing. He glanced nervously to his right, but the man only gave him a measuring look and began to explain the strange symbols Harry had noticed on the walls the night before. Voldemort's magic seemed to be tugging at him almost playfully, and he furiously squashed the urge to let himself give into it.. Whatever Fawkes said, he was not going to bond to Voldemort. Not if he could help it.

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><p>Harry huffed quietly as he rested on a perch next to the tall windows of the office and watched Voldemort conduct a small meeting at the desk on the other side of the room. The Dark Lord spoke with several Death Eaters that Harry had never seen before, except for Lucius Malfoy, who was currently occupied with something that looked like a legal document. Nagini had completely disappeared, and Snape had not shown up yet, despite Harry's hopes, so Harry just sat, frustrated, bored, and slightly sore from his lingering injuries.<p>

Evening had fallen again after an hour or two, but somehow he doubted Voldemort followed the sleeping patterns of normal people, and settled down for a lengthy wait. He was too far away to hear anything interesting, and though Voldemort had already thrown a few curses, Harry was certain he was far enough away to be safe if the Dark Lord started showing more extreme violence.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Harry turned carefully back towards the windows, though all he could see in the minimal light of the rising moon was a dark, restless forest. Instead, he focused on the faint picture of himself he could see in the glass, taking in his transformation. He estimated his size to be about the size of a small goose. Considering Fawkes was at least the size of a swan, though much slimmer, this made him feel rather disgruntled. He felt slightly mollified at the sight of his plumage; his feathers were a fiery orange, shading to a deep red at the edges of each feather and around his beak, while ridiculously long tail feathers, at least as long as the rest of his body, shaded to a deep reddish gold. He occasionally caught slight flashes of a very light blue on the undersides of some of his feathers when he shifted, like the blue flame found at the centre of a fire.

Carefully, he spread his good wing out, stretching it slightly. Though it was not quite the same movement a human would make, he had no trouble with it. His body seemed to instinctively know how to move, and even moving his head on the long neck he now had was not as challenging as he would have expected. He flapped it softly a few times to feel the movement of the air through his feathers, before folding it carefully back against his side. No point in giving Voldemort any more reason to be suspicious of him. Really, he was rather surprised the man was trying to turn him to the dark. If all wizards thought phoenixes were Light, like Fawkes suggested, what was Voldemort thinking?

Harry's wandering train of thought was swiftly derailed as he caught sight of Severus Snape walking through the door in the reflection on the window. After spinning around, he fought hard not to show any more obvious signs of excitement, though only Snape and Voldemort were left in the room. His vague hopes were dashed as Snape ignored him completely. Harry withheld a sharp hiss of frustration as he watched Snape bow and present Voldemort with a box, presumably filled with potions, all without glancing even once in his direction. Unable to hear anything more of their conversation than soft murmurs, Harry turned sulkily back to the window and clenched his talons tightly on the perch, scratching the wood lightly. Obviously, Snape knew it was him, and didn't want to risk looking suspicious in front of Voldemort. Still, Harry would welcome the barest hint of a plan at the moment, and started devising elaborate escape ideas just to give his brain something to do.

Harry shook out of his musing as he heard Snape's voice recede and the office door close, but refused to turn around and look for himself. He felt almost…abandoned, which was ridiculous. After hearing a slight _thunk_ of something hitting wood, and realizing that he had no idea what Voldemort was doing at the moment, Harry glanced around uneasily. Voldemort was leaning against his desk, scowling at an empty crystal potion vial which Harry assumed had come from Snape's box.

As though he felt Harry watching him, Voldemort glanced over at him and straightened up before striding over to the perch, drawing his wand out of his left sleeve as he walked. Harry carefully stopped himself from flinching, and warily allowed Voldemort to run his wand along the bound wing. Though he saw nothing, Harry sensed the unknown spell slide out of the wand and into his wing, sinking all the way through to his bones. He felt his own magic answer against his will, reaching out to mix with the Dark Lord's. Harry barely stopped himself from making an embarrassing noise as his nerves from wingtip to shoulder tingled with a pleasurable sensation. His control failed as the magic withdrew, and he let out a disappointed croon before he stiffened and cut himself off quickly. Voldemort shot him an odd look as he tucked his wand into his sleeve, but Harry refused to look at him. Even if it could not be seen on a bird, he could feel his embarrassment heating the skin under his feathers.

"You managed to avoid injuring yourself further, despite that idiocy this morning," Voldemort remarked in a smooth, even tone that Harry did not trust at all. "If you can control any more foolish urges for another two days, I will take the bindings off your wing."

_::As if you'd know anything about control::_ Harry grumbled quietly, thinking of a few Death Eaters he had seen writhing under some particularly nasty curses. Still, he couldn't stop a small amount of hope from flaring inside him at the thought of flying.

"Ah, but I do. After all, if I did not have control, you would already be in pain for your disrespect, little Fury." Harry froze. _Oh shit, did he just…?_ "Speechless already? How disappointing." Voldemort remarked, smirking slightly at Harry's confusion. Something clicked in Harry's brain, and he glanced quickly back at the desk.

_::The potion…::_ There was really no other explanation Harry could come up with for Voldemort's sudden understanding of phoenix language. If Harry didn't need Snape so badly, he would be desperately tempted to hurt the man, or at least humiliate him. As if he wasn't having enough trouble with Voldemort already.

"Yes. It is one of Severus' personal inventions, not that it's seen much use. Few birds have the necessary intelligence to act as informants, and the ones that do are usually too conspicuous to be useful."

Voldemort stretched out one pale hand as he was speaking, causing Harry to flinch away before it could make contact. Voldemort paused and eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. "I have already promised not to hurt you unless you do something to deserve it, remember? You have nothing to fear, but your own actions."

_::Oh really? Did your followers earn their punishments as well?::_ Harry shot back, ignoring the little voice screaming warnings in his head.

Surprisingly, Voldemort did not react with rage, as Harry had expected. The Dark Lord clasped his hands behind his back and gazed at Harry as though he was slightly unintelligent. "Yes, they did earn it, as they failed to complete their assigned tasks. Fear is an excellent motivator, especially fear of pain. It keeps them efficient."

_::Efficient? They're terrified of you! How does that make them efficient?::_ Harry didn't know why Voldemort hadn't cursed him yet, but decided to push his luck.

"Fool. They are efficient _because_ they are afraid. Most Death Eaters are stubborn and proud. If I did not force them into compliance, they would argue, especially amongst themselves, and no work would ever be done."

At Voldemort's words, Harry recalled the Order meetings he used to eavesdrop on with the twins; Sirius and Moody, calling for violence while Mrs Weasley scolded them; the quieter members waiting for a moment of silence before blurting out their own opinions; occasional hexes tossed during particularly violent arguments; Dumbledore, just sitting patiently and doing nothing to stop the chaos.

Harry jumped as he felt Voldemort's thin fingers slide through the feathers on his back, as he hadn't seen it move, but the hand did not stop its movements and Harry felt himself relaxing under the skillful fingers and the now-familiar tingles of magic.

"We both know I cannot force you to stay here," Voldemort continued, "No wards can stop a phoenix from moving as he pleases. Therefore, I would only hurt you if you attacked me, as you so foolishly did yesterday, or if you betrayed me. Torturing you as I do my Death Eaters would only drive you away…"

_::Why do you want me here anyway?::_ Harry interrupted, _::I don't want to kill all the muggleborns, or the muggles, so we have nothing in common::_ Voldemort frowned slightly at this.

"You have been living with the Light, haven't you, Fury? You simply believe I wish to rule the world and destroy it in the process." Voldemort looked serious, and far saner than Harry had ever seen him. "That is not the case, and we have far more in common than you know. More and more muggles are being born each year, and they are slowly poisoning this earth as they twist it to suit their needs. You are affected by their actions as much as I am. They have destroyed countless magical forests and sanctuaries without a thought. Magical creatures are suffering and dying as the muggles carelessly destroy their homes. Surely you would not ignore the plight of your fellow creatures for sympathy of their killers?"

Harry blinked up at him in disbelief, still slightly off-balance from Voldemort's unexpected calmness. Obviously, Voldemort was only telling him what he thought would win his loyalty, but the scenario was still disturbing. He had always assumed that muggles stayed away from magical places, but since wizards would have no reason to ward a forest, the muggles would have no problems. He shook off his train of thought and reminded himself that Voldemort was only trying to draw him in.

_::So you think killing them will solve all of our problems then?::_ Harry retorted sarcastically. Voldemort raised one hairless brow at his harsh response and tugged painfully on his feathers.

"Do you believe they would show you any mercy if they ever learned of your existence? They would destroy you, in the name of _science_," Voldemort sneered disgustedly. "They would do their best to kill you, and once they discovered your immortality, they would simply rip out your feathers to trap you and dissect you while you still breathed. They would do the same to any magical being they found, in order to make our secrets their own. We have something they will never have, and jealousy makes the kindest of men cruel."

Harry shivered in spite of himself, and desperately tried to ignore the hissing words slipping through his ears. He could imagine his new body, pinned to a cold, steel lab table like a garish, oversized butterfly; men in white lab coats poking and searching as he bled… He shivered again, and Voldemort's hand paused briefly in its stroking before continuing along its path.

"I will kill as many of them as necessary, but to kill all of them is an unrealistic goal. The muggles of Europe should be enough." Voldemort hissed softly as he turned to stare out of the dark windows. "It will be a sanctuary, of sorts, for those with magic, free from muggle influence. Given enough time, the muggles will destroy themselves without any assistance from me, and I have no desire to spend any more time on them than necessary."

_::You still haven't told me why you want me here.:: _Harry pointed out, shoving aside his ever-growing confusion and disbelief at Voldemort's words. Voldemort turned back towards him and drew his hand away from Harry's back.

"True, I have not. A creature of your power would be quite useful in the coming days. You will not be required to kill, or to witness such actions if they are so against your… _morals_. Your tears, your feathers, even your song are all powerful and useful. Your ability to bypass wizard wards is nearly invaluable, and the speed at which you travel will be beneficial as well. I have no doubt I will win this war, even if most of my fellow wizards will not help me, but your skills would aid my plans greatly."

Harry remained silent and eyed him warily, confused and still disbelieving. This was not the insane Voldemort he knew, and he was not sure how much of the man's words were lies. Voldemort had already admitted Harry could escape as soon as he could fly again, so this was probably just the Dark Lord's attempt to keep him nearby. But if he was actually telling the truth and this war was more than an insane psychopath's killing spree… Voldemort's voice dragged him out of his thoughts.

"Have I shaken your beliefs, little Fury?" The man seemed distantly amused again, as though he could sense the turmoil he had caused with his words. "Take your time and think about my words. I will show you enough evidence while you are here for you to see that I speak the truth."

Voldemort stretched his arm out in front of Harry's perch and, after a moment of indecision, Harry stepped carefully onto his wrist and let Voldemort carry him out of the room. The man was still an insane, murdering bastard, but Harry was stuck with him for now, so he decided to play nice. That didn't mean he was stupid enough to believe Voldemort's stories, no matter what the man told him. All he had to do was heal for a few days and then he could pretend none of this ever happened. His whole body quivered as Voldemort's free hand caressed his head lightly, and Harry let out a sigh of frustration and slight longing. He could already tell that these were going to be a very _long_ couple of days.

* * *

><p>Done! Finally! Yes! See, I have been reduced to monosyllabic grunts. *sighs* But hey, Voldemort's finally starting to pull Harry over! Took him long enough right? I was going to keep him insane, but it didn't really work, so I tried for the cold, intelligent (and persuasive!) Slytherin with bouts of random crazy. Hopefully I succeeded to some extent. More action starts happening after this chapter! Yay!<p> 


	5. Sneak

_Disclaimer: JKR owns everything, but the plot._

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><p>Severus Snape prided himself on his self-control; it was what had stopped him from going to pieces over the years. Even as a young child, he had quickly learned to hide his thoughts from those who would take immediate advantage of any weaknesses. Few people had ever bothered to look beyond his walls, and so most never realized how completely his mask of unpleasantness covered his true thoughts. In truth, his mask of spite and anger was often just that, a mask, and it was rare for him to truly feel the volatile emotions he presented. Tonight, however, seemed to be one of those rare moments; Severus was angry.<p>

Angry, and utterly, horribly afraid.

The beautiful serenity of the grounds of Hogwarts contrasted so sharply with the cold, gut-wrenching emotions stirring in Severus' body that he almost felt as though he was walking in a dream. Or perhaps it was a nightmare. Severus snorted at the thought._ If only_. He would gladly suffer years of nightmares to escape the situation Potter's foolish actions had trapped him in.

Severus ignored a cheerful greeting from Hagrid as he continued down the path to the entrance gates. When he'd given Black the ritual, he'd certainly never imagined the Dark Lord getting involved. Potter had dragged them both into a world of trouble, and Severus needed to find a solution very quickly. Neither Dumbledore nor the Dark Lord would appreciate his involvement in Potter's disappearance should they ever discover his actions, and both men had extremely effective ways of expressing their disapproval. He chilled slightly at the thought, but kept walking. He had faced worse than this without losing his composure, and he refused to let one of _Potter's_ idiotic stunts distress him.

Severus reached his destination in what seemed to be a very short period of time, lost in his brooding. He stopped abruptly in front of the gates for a moment, quieting his rampant thoughts and emotions with the ease of many years of experience. Pressing his hand against the cold metal, he let his magic brush lightly against the recently strengthened protective wards imbued in the castle's gates and outer wall. The wards responded to his wordless request, lowering enough to allow him to open one gate and slip outside before springing back up to full strength. He had no idea why the Headmaster had decided to strengthen the wards now, instead of a year ago, but his inquiries had, as always, been met with platitudes and evasions.

With a spell, his billowing robes melted, transforming into a black frock coat and dark grey trousers. Turning sharply on his heel, he Apparated into a quiet muggle neighbourhood. Severus glanced around at the empty street, scowling at the identical, boring houses and then slipped into the shadows of a nearby tree, crossing his arms and tapping his foot irritably against the pavement. Several long minutes later, during which Severus' patience wore extremely thin, the sound of Apparition caused him to straighten up and glower at the old man who had appeared next to him.

"Ah, Severus, you are here early! Wonderful!" Dumbledore beamed at him as he moved over to join the older wizard. Severus kept his gaze on the nearby houses in an effort to protect his eyesight from the assault of the Headmaster's neon yellow robes.

"I do not wish to waste any more of my time on this pointless errand than necessary, Headmaster. The boy is rebelling, as all teenagers do, and will no doubt return once he believes he has drawn enough attention to himself. I see no reason why I am necessary for your investigation."

"Now, Severus, you know I would not have asked you to come with me if I did not believe it necessary. None of the Order members guarding the house saw him leave and none of my alarms informed me when he left the wards. I am truly concerned that-"

"Any fifth-year student could dismantle an alarm ward given enough time and incentive. As for your supposed _guards_, well, perhaps now you understand the folly of giving a child something as dangerous as an invisibility cloak." Severus interrupted him snidely as they chose one house from among its clones. Plans raced through his mind as they walked, but there were too many unknown variables, and he knew he would have to improvise and hope he could dispose of any evidence of Potter's actions before the Headmaster realized it was there. "I have heard nothing from the Dark Lord, and this is not something he would keep quiet, Albus. Potter must have left of his own accord.

"I do not believe that Harry would run away, not after the events at the Ministry." Dumbledore's voice broke through Severus' scheming as they reached the front door. The Headmaster rapped sharply on the door in front of them. "He knows his duty, and what is at stake should he fail."

_And it never occurred to you that maybe that is exactly why he would run away?_ But Severus quieted his hostile thoughts and focused on the door, which was decidedly not opening. He reached past Dumbledore and pounded heavily on the wood. Still, no sounds of movement came from inside the house.

"I was quite certain they would be home by now. Perhaps we could come back when…" Dumbledore never finished his suggestion as Severus flicked his wand lazily and blasted a mild curse through the door, causing it to ricochet off the wall and back at them. Ignoring Dumbledore's half-hearted admonishments, he kicked the door back open with one booted foot and stalked through the entryway just as a shatter of breaking glass emanated from a nearby room.

Severus followed the noise through an orderly hallway into an equally immaculate kitchen- immaculate, except for the grossly oversized muggle struggling to rise out of a wooden chair and a few empty bottles scattered on the table. A mess of liquid and glass on the ground proved to be the source of the noise. The stench of alcohol immediately informed him of the bottle's contents, and he was forcibly reminded of several of Potter's memories involving alcohol and this very muggle.

"Vernon Dursley, I presume?" Severus drawled, leaning against a chair as the muggle finally managed to stand on his unsteady legs. The man blinked at him stupidly and Severus was about to conjure a bucket of ice water over the idiot's head when Dumbledore appeared in the doorway behind him. The muggle's face reddened in blotches at the sight of Dumbledore's robes, though Severus hardly blamed him for that. He was quite certain the old man was colour-blind.

"You! You're some of those… those freaks! What do you think you're doing, breaking into my house like this? Get out, before I call the police!"

The muggle swayed alarmingly as he ranted, but steadied himself enough to take a few threatening steps in their direction. Severus whipped his wand out and under the man's many chins. A small amount of satisfaction and amusement swept through him as the man immediately closed his mouth and paled alarmingly.

"We are here about your nephew, Harry Potter." The obese man opened his mouth, and Severus dug his wand in a little deeper. "Yes, we are aware he is no longer in residence, so spare us your excuses. What we want are the details of his disappearance, which I'm sure you would be _delighted_ to provide."

"Now, Severus, is that really necessary?" Dumbledore's disapproving voice spoke behind him. Severus ignored him and focused on the Muggle, who had sunk back down into the chair as though his fat legs had liquefied.

"I… I didn't have anything to do with it!" the muggle finally stammered out. "The little freak ran off days ago, just vanished, and not a word to any of us. I don't know where he's gotten off to, but whatever trouble he's managed to find himself in, you keep my family out of it!" The muggle seemed to have regained some of his bluster and actually had the gall to stick one porky finger in Severus' face to punctuate his statement. Severus was highly tempted to break it, but luckily - or perhaps unluckily - Dumbledore stepped forward.

"Harry is not in any trouble, Mr Dursley." Severus snorted inwardly at this, but removed his wand and retreated, letting the Headmaster continue. "We certainly don't want to cause your family any stress, but it is very important that we locate Harry as soon as possible. We only need some information, anything you can think of that may help us get Harry back to safety, and then we will leave you in peace."

This, instead of calming the muggle, only seemed to enrage him further. The considerable amount of alcohol the man had drunk seemed to loosen his tongue despite his fear of the wizards. "I already said I don't know anything about this, didn't I? I don't want to know either! The little bastard ran off days ago, and a good riddance to him. You better not bring him back here if you find him, you hear me? I won't have it! He's useless, a useless freak, always gettin' in the way an' scaring Dudders. He can rot out there, let 'im get a taste of real hard living, that'll teach 'im…"

The muggle hardly seemed to be speaking to them anymore, instead reciting what sounded like an oft repeated speech to the bottles on the table, his words starting to slur slightly. Severus sneered and turned to the Headmaster, who was eyeing the muggle with a frown.

"It is unlikely that we will find nothing useful here, Headmaster. I will check the boy's room and see if he left any clues about his destination, if you will search down here," Severus offered, praying that the man would not insist on accompanying him upstairs.

"Yes, perhaps that is best. I will see if I cannot get anything more out of Mr Dursley as well." Dumbledore waved him out of the room, and Severus held in a small sigh of relief. He slipped through the disturbingly neat house and up the staircase, moving gracefully and silently despite his height.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard scuffling coming from the room to his immediate left and lightly pushed open the door. He lifted a brow at the sight of another fat muggle, this one obviously Potter's cousin. Armfuls of clothes ended up on a large bed while the muggle dug frantically through a chest of drawers, obviously looking for something. Severus considered for a moment before quietly slipping back out and continuing down the hall. He highly doubted this muggle would be any more helpful than the one downstairs.

Severus scowled as he reached the end of the hall and faced a battered door covered in heavy padlocks and a cat flap. Unlocking them all with one flick of his wand, he entered Potter's room warily, glaring at the bare walls and scruffy furniture.

Somebody had obviously tried to clean up the evidence of Potter's actions, as Severus could see no physical signs of the ritual. He could still _feel_ it though, remnants of Dark magic brushing against him as he walked around the room. He was lucky the Headmaster had not come up, as the man would have sensed it immediately, and would likely be able to identify the type of magic used.

He murmured a quiet spell to locate any magical items inside the room and opened the closet to find Potter's open school trunk, minus a few very obvious items. He frowned in confusion and looked around the room. Potter couldn't have taken anything with him, so where was his wand and the famed invisibility cloak? For that matter, where was the trunk Black had used to store the materials?

A slight cough near the door had him spinning around, wand out, as he cursed himself for becoming so careless. The younger muggle stood petrified in the doorway, piggy eyes fixed on Severus' wand like a mouse staring at a cobra. Severus lowered his wand and glared at the muggle irritably.

"Well, don't just stand there, boy! What do you want?" Severus' growl seemed to wake the muggle up, and he flinched before stepping into the room, staying near the desk beside the open door while Severus remained near the closet. The boy pulled something out from behind his back and placed it on the desk, eyeing Severus warily the entire time. Severus recognized the silvery cloth of Potter's invisibility cloak and blinked in surprise as the muggle shakily lifted the cloth to reveal a book, a letter, a trunk the size of a matchbox, and a very familiar wand.

"I…h-he left this stuff on the ground. Harry, the night he…well, you know. Dad w-would've destroyed them, so I picked them up. I think they're important, if you're trying to find him." The muggle was clearly afraid, refusing to look at Severus and twitching like a skittish colt. Or perhaps a piglet. Severus narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he took several quick steps forward and the muggle wobbled a laborious retreat back to the doorway.

"Yes, they are important, though I am surprised that you were willing to touch them. Do you not share your father's opinion about the wizarding world? Or about your cousin, for that matter?" Several of Potter's memories involving his cousin floated to the front of his mind, fuelling his incredulity. The muggle, after flinching ridiculously at the word wizard, actually seemed to consider the question for a minute.

"It's not…I don't _like_ it, b-but I don't like what Dad did to Harry either. He nearly killed him this time, I think. I tried to help him get out of here, but I don't know where he went." The boy seemed to understand Severus' look of doubt and flushed unattractively. "I never liked him very much either, but he saved my life. I couldn't just leave him there."

The muggle- Dudley, if he remembered correctly- raised his head and met Severus' eyes with noticeable effort for a few seconds before swallowing nervously and taking a step back towards the door. Severus nodded in acknowledgement and Dudley waddled out of the room as quickly as he could, obviously considering his part in the whole ordeal over.

Severus watched the door for a few moments before he mentally shook himself. He wrapped the cloak back around the items and shrunk the entire package, along with Potter's school trunk, and slipped the cloak into his pocket. He walked slowly back to the stairs, where Dumbledore was waiting for him at the bottom when he arrived.

"Did you find anything useful, Severus?" Severus tossed the shrunken school trunk to the Headmaster with an air of disgust.

"His school things, but neither his wand nor his cloak. There were no signs that he left unwillingly. Really, Headmaster, you should have known he would try something like this. Potter has never shown any care for responsibility," Severus lied, undisturbed by the frustrated and disappointed look on Dumbledore's face.

"I had truly thought he would understand… but perhaps I expected too much of him. I should have checked on him." Dumbledore said. Severus huffed at this as he glanced around the disgustingly perfect room. _Yes, you should have checked on him, but not for those reasons._

Then again, it was possible that Dumbledore knew exactly what Potter's uncle had done and decided to ignore it. Dumbledore seemed truly sad, but Severus had lived with the man for too long to trust his facial expressions. Dumbledore led him towards the front door without another word, and he decided to test his luck a little.

"Did you manage to get anything more out of the uncle? He obviously knew _something_ about Potter's departure, though likely nothing useful."

"No, I'm afraid I did not. He was already quite intoxicated when we got here, and was becoming increasingly violent as I examined the house, so I cast a sleeping charm on him. He will not wake up for another hour or so," Dumbledore replied. Severus bristled at Dumbledore's answer.

"And you didn't question him first? His drunkenness would have his undoubtedly weak mind even more open than it normally would be! It was a perfect opportunity for Legilimency!" A spasm of something crossed Dumbledore's face, but was gone before Severus could properly identify it. The Headmaster replaced it with a stern glance.

"It would have been entirely unethical while he was in such a state, especially as he is a muggle. I would certainly not attempt to search his mind without his full and aware consent."

_Oh no, of course, not the muggles. And yet, you have no problems grasping the mind of any wizard foolish enough to look you in the eye_. But Severus bit his tongue and glanced at the setting sun as they crossed the Dursleys' lawn. Could he risk it?

"Headmaster, did it never occur to you that the muggles might have something to do with Potter's absence?" Severus inquired delicately. "If his Uncle went beyond the posturing and blustering we found today, then perhaps Potter left for his own safety."

Dumbledore's expression did not change. "I am certain this is not the case, Severus. Harry would have told me, or confided in his friends. If Harry has indeed run away, it was likely because of a simple family disagreement, easily mended and forgotten. Petunia will no doubt manage to calm her husband in the coming days, and Harry can return to his family once we have located him. I believe he will run to Diagon Alley, as he did years ago, so we can start our search there."

Severus shook his head in disbelief at Dumbledore's casual response. Had it been Minerva, she would have at least investigated the possibility of abuse. The Headmaster's immediate dismissal of the topic hinted either that he was unwilling to consider the idea, or he already knew and was simply trying to distract Severus. He decided he would probably never receive the answer from the man himself.

Dumbledore reminded him of the Order meeting that night to discuss their findings with the rest of the group in order to set up search teams, and Severus agreed shortly as the aggravating man disapparated. Before Severus could decide what to do, his left arm flared with pain; Dark magic flowed out of the Mark and sank into his arm like rows of venomous teeth. He let out a nearly inaudible curse and Apparated to his home in Spinner's End.

Once inside, he hurried down into the basement, where he had set up his potions lab. Swiftly, he pulled Potter's cloak and its contents out of his coat and tossed them onto one of the worktables in the corner of the lab, then grabbed several boxes of potions the Dark Lord had requested and tucked them into a leather satchel. With a flick of his wand, he summoned his Death Eater robes and mask, and he pulled them on over his muggle clothes.

Grasping the feather-light satchel, Severus cast one last look at the invisibility cloak lying forlornly in the corner of the room before he ran up the stairs. Systematically occluding his mind as he moved, he hid any knowledge of Potter's actions and the items now hidden in his lab behind his strong mental shields. There would be time to worry about it later and everything depended on him keeping his composure. Taking a deep breath to fortify himself as he slipped out the front door, he clasped his hand over the Mark and Disapparated.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Ummm… Don't kill me? _*Grovels pathetically*_ I'm very sorry! I didn't mean to... And I've already finished most of the next chapter. It was going to be here, but I just wanted to put _something_ up. A big, huge thank you to everyone who reviewed! You make me bounce and squeal with happiness!


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